


sunlight against your skin

by scrapheap_redux



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Kaminoans Being Assholes (Star Wars), M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, canon-typical treatment of clone troopers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29601459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheap_redux/pseuds/scrapheap_redux
Summary: CC-1010 wears his shame stamped on his face, a sign that even his soulmate won't be able to love someone like him. He might do his best to hide it, but he already knows that there's no happy ending for him out there.Quinlan Vos has spent years fearing that his soulmate connection has been irrevocably altered by the darkness that clings to him and that he'll only meet his soulmate when he sees them die.They're both wrong.(Or: the Vox soulmate au where there's a black mark on the first place your soulmate will touch you)
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox/Quinlan Vos
Comments: 34
Kudos: 183





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> okay ive had this idea sitting around in my wips for a while, but SOME PEOPLE (cough cough the vox discord) wanted content Now so here yall go!

It starts just like any other morning on Kamino. CC-1010’s batch gets woken up before the bugle sounds by Alpha-17, who runs them through their drills with just as much energy as usual. It goes exactly the same as it always does. Wolffe snaps and snarls and grumbles but throws himself into the drills anyways, ‘52 looks comically dismayed as he jogs, and Kote is silently plotting Alpha-17’s mysterious disappearance. 1010, like always, sticks to the middle of the pack, so he can drag ‘52 forward when he starts to flag but not let Wolffe get too full of himself either.

So drills go as usual, and they all file into the ‘freshers afterwards, sore and wet and miserable, and 1010 has to listen to Wolffe loudly complain about it all for the entire duration of their water ration, also like usual. ‘52 is the only one who ever actually listens, because he still hasn’t quite perfect the art of tuning out while someone is rambling, but 1010 is used to the noise at this point. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t tell Wolffe to stuff it when they’re getting dressed, of course, because 1010 has a reputation to uphold. Wolffe promptly tackles him.

“We have sword lessons with the Prime in a few minutes, guys,” Ponds interrupts placidly before they can do more than just roll around on the ground. 1010 huffs but shoves Wolffe off of him, dusting his fatigues off as he rises to his feet.

“Well _I’m_ ready,” he says pointedly, ignoring Wolffe’s snarl as he yanks his own clothes on. Because 1010 is a good brother, he goes and helps ‘52 pull his shirt down over his head, since Alpha-17 had decided he could use a few more pushups this morning. ‘52 gives 1010 a small, thankful smile before rushing towards the door, and 1010 hides a small smile of his own.

Prime is just as coldly intimidating as ever when they reach the training room. 1010 straightens his shoulders instinctively, wiping his face clean of any emotions. He can see the rest of his batch doing the same, even Wolffe and Kote. Prime is always a wild card to deal with, never around long enough for 1010 to get a good reading of and set off by the smallest things. He might like 1010’s batch a little better than most, but that isn’t saying much.

Still, when Prime is in as good of a mood as he gets, he can be a pretty decent teacher. Certainly better than someone like Reau or Priest, who only ever manage to teach things with pain and suffering. Prime at least manages to show them what to do without making it a mind game or hurting them just because he can, even if sometimes it seems like he can barely stand to be in their presence. He seems to be in one of those better moods today, at least, since he only looks mildly irritated when he barks at them to get into position.

1010 does actually like the katas Prime is teaching them - from Concord Dawn, apparently, which has Kote’s interest just like anything else Mandalorian does. He’s focused enough on them that he doesn’t immediately catch it when ‘52 falters mid-kata. In fact, he doesn’t notice until he hears Prime snap, “CC-5052, what do you think you’re doing?” 1010’s head whips up and he sees, stomach dropping, that ‘52 has frozen and is just looking down at his arm in shock.

“S-Sir,” ‘52 stammers, sounding shaken, and immediately the rest of the batch is on full alert. “There’s- there’s something on my arm.” Prime scoffs dismissively, striding over and grabbing ‘52’s wrist and yanking it up.

“What, some kind of critter-” Prime stops dead in his tracks, his face paling several shades, and 1010 has never seen the man look so _haunted_ before. 1010 slowly lowers his practice sword, exchanging a worried look with Wolffe as he does the same. “ _Nayc... bic liser't cuyir…_ ” Prime mutters, more to himself than anything. He drops ‘52’s arm like he’s been burned, letting 1010 catch a glimpse of a black mark stamped on the inside of ‘52’s wrist. Prime paces the length of the room, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. 1010 and his batch watch him, wary, and when Prime suddenly spins to face them with a slightly manic look in his eyes, they almost all manage to hide their flinches. “When did it appear?” Prime demands, and ‘52 just looks up at him, terrified and unable to form words. “ _Well?_ ”

“It wasn’t there before the lesson,” 1010 cuts in, before Prime can get too mad at ‘52’s scared silence. Prime turns his laser-sharp gaze onto 1010, and 1010 does not let himself cower.

“You saw it?” 1010 nods, keeping his face a blank mask and his eyes fixed on a point past Prime’s shoulder.

“Yes, sir. CC-5052 changed with the rest of us after drills.” He hates using his brother’s designations like that, can see the way ‘52 winces at it, but the trainers are usually happier when he does it - or at least, less mad. What he’s not expecting is for Prime to recoil like he’s been slapped, taking a step back from 1010.

“Fuck,” Prime says hoarsely, ripping his gaze away from 1010 as he drags a hand down his face. “ _Fuck_.” 1010 just stands there awkwardly, unsure how to proceed.

“Sir?” he says hesitantly, exchanging a confused look with Ponds.

“It’s a soulmark.” ‘52 looks like he’s been bowled over, and 1010 can’t help but share the sentiment. He knows his own eyes have gone wide with shock, but he can’t gather himself enough to school his features, and neither can his brothers. 

“But- but we’re _clones_ ,” ‘52 manages to get out, sounding close to tears and clutching his marked arm close to his chest. “We don’t _have_ soulmates.” Prime sighs heavily, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.


	2. Ripples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things change. (Nothing is the same.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: canon-typical treatment of clones re:kamino, implications of child death

As soon as Prime storms out of the room, they all rush to ‘52’s side. ‘52 is still shaking, grip around his marked arm so tightly that 1010 wouldn’t be surprised if it bruised. “‘52?” Ponds starts, concerned. “Can we see?” ‘52 nods shakily, hesitantly pulling his arm away from his chest and pulling up his sleeve so that they can see. 

There’s a black handprint on the inside of ‘52’s wrist, delicately wrapped around it in what could only be a wrist clasp. The hand is slim and fine-boned, so different from their own broad ones, and when Wolffe reaches out to hover over the mark his hand covers it entirely. ‘52 jerks when Wolffe’s fingers brush against it, but his shoulders slump and he exhales heavily in relief when no color appears.

“Oh thank kriff,” ‘52 mutters, his other hand over his heart. Wolffe scowls at him in mock offense, pulling back.

“ _ Rude _ , vod’ika,” he says with a sniff. “I’d be a  _ delight _ to have as a soulmate.” ‘52 gives him a wobbly smile but it quickly drops as he looks back down at the mark.

“It’s… it’s really a soulmark,” he says quietly, as if speaking any louder would reveal it to be a dream all along.

“Yeah, vod, it is,” Kote murmurs, just as quietly, putting a reassuring hand on ‘52’s shoulder.

“ _ My _ soulmark,” ‘52 says, voice filled with awe as he runs his fingers along the length of his mark. 1010 swallows thickly around the tightness in his throat and nods.

“All yours,  _ vod’ika _ .”

After the initial celebration, though, trepidation quickly returns. The Kaminoans are  _ not _ pleased to find such aberrations in their products, and they demand ‘52 for decommissioning so that they can examine his body for defects. ‘52 climbs into 1010’s pod at night, too scared that he’ll be taken in his sleep. 1010 allows it, because he’s scared of the same thing, and it’s worth sleeping in a cramped pod if it means he can feel his brother’s body besides his own. For a tense few days, that seems like it’s exactly what’s going to happen, but then Prime intervenes.

1010 and ‘52 watch in shock as Prime yells at the Kaminoans angrily, somehow managing to get up in their faces despite the height difference. 1010 has never seen Prime so passionate about  _ anything _ , let alone on a  _ clone _ ’s behalf, and he can’t say the disconnect isn’t jarring. On the rare occasions Prime has intervened in the Kaminoans doings, it’s always been with cold logic, not… this.

Apparently, the Kaminoans want to keep Prime happier than they want to cut ‘52 up, because nothing happens and then keeps on not happening until Prime actually shows up and bluntly tells them that the Kaminoans won’t be decommissioning ‘52 because of his mark. ‘52 bursts into relieved tears, and Prime hesitates, looking like he wants to say something, but he turns on his heel and leaves.

Now that ‘52’s death isn’t hanging over their heads, it’s all the other CCs can talk about. The idea that a  _ clone _ could have a soulmate is mind-boggling, even if ‘52 is some kind of anomaly, and everyone wants to talk about what it might mean. 1010, who has always suspected that Alpha-17 has some kind of mark, watches it all, bemused and fond. 

And then 1004 wakes up with black wrapped around one of his hands. 1010’s batch is already awake when they hear the yell coming from the other room, and they all rush over there expecting to find an injured brother, but it’s just 1004, looking down at his hand in shock. Nobody can make heads or tails of what could possibly leave a mark like it, the shape nowhere near as clearly defined as Bly’s crisp mark, and 1004 throws himself into researching all kinds of other sapient life in the galaxy in the hopes of figuring it out.

The rumors are just starting to die out again when Thorn walks into the ‘freshers one day with a very clear handprint on his shoulderblade. One brother nearly slips on the tile when he sees it, and Thorn frowns and looks around at the shocked faces in confusion. “What?” he asks. “Is something wrong?” It takes them finagling a few mirrors for Thorn to be able to see his mark himself, and 1010 has never seen him be so quiet.

After that, it seems like there’s soulmarks popping up left and right. They spread through the Command batches like wildfire, and soon they’ve even made their way down to the CTs. The CT Kote picked up shows them his own mark the next time he stops by, looking more vibrant and confident than they’ve ever seen him. It doesn’t take long before brothers are eagerly anticipating when their own marks will show up, throwing around possibilities about whose will appear next and where it might be. Some brothers check over their whole bodies in the mirrors, searching for a mark. Eventually it seems like every single brother has a splotch of black somewhere on their body. 1010… doesn’t. He doesn’t go out of his way to look for a mark like some of the others, but sometimes he can’t help but glimpse at the bare skin of his arms, his legs, and hopes that something will appear. He’s not  _ looking forward _ to it, per se, but he’s… anticipatory. Bly might say hopeful, but Bly is also a soft-hearted idiot, so 1010 ignores him.

Life goes on. ‘52’s mark seems to have granted him a whole new wealth of confidence, and his scores shoot up exponentially. He even finally picks out a name for himself, and 1010 has to admit that Bly suits him a lot better than ‘52 ever had. There’s a vitality around Bly that 1010 hadn’t realized ‘52 had been missing, and even if it makes his heart ache 1010 can’t help but feel happy for his brother whenever he catches Bly gazing down at his mark reverently.

_ (He wants something like that too, someday, even if he’ll never admit it.) _

It only takes a month before it all comes crashing down. It’s been a good day in training, and 1010 is in a pretty decent mood as he shoves down another bite of the protein mash the Kaminoans give them. The murmurs and clattering of utensils that fill the room suddenly cuts out, plunging the hall into silence. Startled, 1010 looks up and blinks.

Wolffe and Kote have stopped their usual bickering to look at 1010 in shock, eyes wide and mouths agape. Ponds and Bly are only slightly more composed, and 1010 feels anxiety ratchet up in his chest. He looks around, and every single table near them is staring at him.

“What?” he demands, shoulders tensing up.

“1010…” Bly breathes out, not looking away from 1010’s face. “Your soulmark… It just showed up.” 1010 frowns, reaching up to touch his cheek. It must be on his face, judging by the others’ reactions, but he hadn’t felt any kind of difference to indicate a change. A mark appearing shouldn’t be enough to stun his brothers like this, though, no matter how strange the location. Even the brother with a handprint on his shebs hadn’t gotten a reaction like this.

“10’s gonna get slapped!” one of the other CCs hollers out and nervous chuckles break out around the room. 1010 feels like he’s been dunked in the ice-cold water of Kamino’s oceans. It’s a chill that goes straight to his bones and freezes them solid.1010 abruptly shoves his seat back, ignoring the screech of metal against metal. He walks out of the mess, forcing himself to take each step calm and measured even if he feels nothing of the sort, but once he’s in the hall the pretense falls entirely. 1010 bolts to the nearest ‘fresher, heading straight for the mirrors.

There’s a black handprint on 1010’s face. It covers almost the entirety of 1010’s left cheek, starting at his jaw and ending with the tips of the fingers just past his eyebrow. The fingers are spread out just barely enough to differentiate between them, but the thumb is apart from the rest, seated directly under 1010’s left eye.

1010 swallows hard and tells himself he’s not disappointed. He’s not upset. But his eyes burn anyways and 1010 rips his gaze away from the mirror, staring down at where his hands are clenched on the rim of the sink, knuckles almost as white as the plasteel.

He doesn’t know why he got his hopes up. They were just  _ soldiers _ , bred for war. They didn’t  _ get _ nice things, not like in the sappy holo-novels Bly had gotten from one of the trainers’ datapads, where they get happily-ever-afters and gallivant off into the sunset. That was for real people. They didn’t deserve it.

CC-1010 steps back out into the halls with a steely face and pretends that he does not hear the whispers that appear when he walks by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next ch is going to be Quinlan and some actual explanations! I was going to include more here but Fox was just not having it. 
> 
> Chapters should also (hopefully) be getting longer from here on out!


	3. Flash of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinlan worries about the past repeating itself through his hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: uhhh sort of past character death?? also fuck qui gon jinn

Quinlan Vos is one of the last of his agemates to get a mark. He’s not the only one, of course - Obi-Wan, who is two years younger, hasn’t gotten one either, nor have a handful of others, but it’s enough to make people whisper. He knows his old crechemates don’t like him after he’d spent years waking them up with nightmares, but he hadn’t expected them to stoop this far.

They might only know the bare bones of Quinlan’s situation before he came to the Order, but it’s enough for them to start sowing rumors. Rumors about the dark stain Quinlan carries, how it must have tainted his soulbond, how the Force must have decided he’s not fit for a soulmate. Quinlan tries to tune it out as best as he can, but it seeps into his mind anyways, and despite Obi-Wan and their other friends’ best efforts he has to meditate daily just to make sure it doesn’t fuel the bit of darkness ensnared in his soul.

Quinlan spends a lot of time in the Archives, avoiding the pitying looks and insisting that he just wants to research more about psychometrics in the Order’s history. He does do that, too, but Quinlan also searches for explanations on why some soulmarks appear later than others, if there’s some way to break a soulmark, if it’s possible not to have a soulmate at all. It’s somewhere in the intersection of those two avenues of research that Quinlan finds his worst nightmare.

Not too long after the Ruusaan Reformation, there’s a Jedi Master with psychometry even stronger than Quinlan’s. Quinlan does remember Master Tholme mentioning the man before - his name had come up once when Tholme was comforting Quinlan in the aftermath of one of a memory he’d picked up. What Tholme hadn’t mentioned - or perhaps, hadn’t known, since the journal was buried quite deeply in the Archives - was that the man had met his soulmate through the echo of her death. The connection had been powerful enough, recent enough, that the Jedi had witnessed the scene as if he had been there himself in body, reaching out to try and catch her body as it fell, but it’s still only an echo and can’t be changed. His hand had tingled as her body fell through it, and when the Master had finally escaped the echo he’d discovered that his mark had gone from the black of a dormant soulbond to the scarred grey that signified a soulmate lost. He abruptly disappears from the records from that point on, and all Quinlan can think about is his own soulmate, if they’re out there, wondering if the piece of Darkness in his soul has doomed them.

Quinlan’s mark appears when he’s fifteen, and a chill goes down his spine as he stares at it in mute horror. The entire front side of his hand is solid black… just like that Jedi Master’s had been. Some of his complicated maelstrom of emotions must leak through his bond with his Master, because Tholme appears in the doorway looking concerned. Quinlan breaks down.

He doesn’t explain his fears to Tholme, but he thinks Tholme must have picked up on it anyways, because a few days later he hands Quinlan a pair of synthleather gloves that go past his wrists. He says it’s for Quinlan’s psychometry, but Quinlan can tell, as his fingers run along the seams, that it’s something _more_.

Quinlan stops talking about soulmates after that. He knows his friends have noticed - Bant’s worried looks aren’t half as subtle as she thinks they are - but eventually, they accept that he’s satisfied now that he has a mark. Quinlan doesn’t bother to correct them. He feels bad for it when Obi-Wan hits sixteen and still doesn’t have a mark, because he can’t comfort the other boy without revealing his tangled ball of fears and insecurities, and Force knows Obi-Wan has enough of those on his own.

Quinlan is eighteen when Obi-Wan bursts into his room in tears in the early hours of the morning. Quinlan jerks awake, expecting an attack, but Obi-Wan just throws himself at Quinlan and all but shoves his hand in Quinlan’s face.

“It appeared, it finally _appeared_ .” Quinlan has to pull back and squint to actually see the mark, a brush of black against the pale skin of Obi-Wan’s fingers. Obi-Wan is still sobbing, but his presence in the force is sparkling with a raw, incandescent _joy_. “Force, Quin, is this what you felt when yours showed up?” It feels like icy cold water has been dumped over his head, and Quinlan can’t quite get past the lump in his throat. He’s able to stifle it, but Obi-Wan gives him an odd look later that day and Quinlan suddenly has the feeling he’s going to be interrogated sometime in the near future.

It takes Obi-Wan a startling two weeks before he corners Quinlan in one of the small miscellaneous rooms scattered throughout the Temple. Quinlan admires his restraint, even if he doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation. Obi-Wan isn’t particularly intimidating as he stands in front of Quinlan with his arms crossed over his chest, a very serious look on his face that’s marred by the awful padawan haircut and a fresh sunburn across Obi-Wan’s nose and cheeks. Obi-Wan is nothing if not stubborn, though, and eventually, Quinlan groans in defeat.

He doesn’t explain everything, doesn’t verbalize the knot of dark tangled thoughts in his head, but he does explain the story of the Jedi Master he’d found. Obi-Wan, of course, is sharp enough to read between the lines. They sit silently for a while, before Obi-Wan hesitantly offers a messy conglomerate of his own fears about his soulbond. It soothes a little of the rawness in Quinlan’s soul, and later that night they go out and parkour around Coruscant with the wind rushing in their ears.

Years pass, and while the tangle of fear never really goes away, it dulls to an ache that Quinlan can usually push past. In that matter, at least, Quinlan has fared better than Obi-Wan - the years have only worsened his friend’s feared, missions and Jinn’s careless words driving the knife in deeper and deeper.

Aayla helps too, of course, her sunny presence lighting up his life, and with a Padawan to wrangle a soulmate is the least of his worries. He raises her to Knighthood and then suddenly his quarters are empty again and that aching knot of loneliness is back. Quinlan tries to focus on his work, but it nags at the back of his mind relentlessly. Quinlan is just about getting ready to drag Obi-Wan into a night of drinking until they blackout when there’s an assassination attempt on Senator Amidala and Obi-Wan is off yet again.

And then, of course, Obi-Wan finds the clones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im currently taking writing requests/prompts if y'all want to shoot some my way either here or on [tumblr](https://zaethiopica.tumblr.com/ask)!

**Author's Note:**

> if you too want to harass me into writing by sending me gifs of kittens looking planative, you can join the vox discord server [here](https://discord.gg/XqK4S9y4az)
> 
> \--
> 
> if you want to chat, my tumblr is @zaethiopica!


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